


The Tumultuous Tide of Tribbles

by hinekik



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-23
Updated: 2013-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-15 20:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/853919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinekik/pseuds/hinekik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>* Into Darkness spoilers *</p>
<p>A fill for the ST:ID kink meme. While Kirk is recovering, with Spock and McCoy glued to his bedside, Uhura and Sulu handle running the ship (and the paperwork). Meanwhile, Carol finds something cute and fluffy in sickbay....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Her father is dead.

Her father was a traitor, a murderer, a madman, and he's dead.

Carol's self-aware enough to know she's in shock. She should be reeling or weeping but all she feels is.... numb. And that she has to do _something_.

The Enterprise is a mess. The ships has had enough holes blown in her that Carol's still a little surprised the entire crew didn't get sucked out into space when she stops to think about it.

She tries not to think about it.

Carol wasn't suppose to be on this ship and now it shows. She doesn't know where to go but she can't stop moving, can't stop her fingers from brushing the walls of its winding halls. She's been in every science lab, stepped over broken experiments and equipment. She's been in engineering, checking readings and murmuring greetings. No one's said anything but she can't shake the feeling that she's in the way. She's not suppose to be here. She's not part of the Enterprise.

She's not sure how she ends up back in sickbay. It's quieter here, now. The patients have been pulled off of the ship, moved to more stable quarters on Earth. She wonders where Kirk is briefly, if he'll wake up. Doctor McCoy had said he would, voice full of confidence and curses, but she'd seen his hands shake.

Sinking into a chair in sickbay, she waves off a concerned look from a nurse. There's still a skeleton crew here, ready in case one of those kids in engineering manages to hurt themselves while piecing the ship back together. She watches them for a moment, her hands folded in her lap.

Her father is dead.

The hot tears rise unbidden, unwanted and she looks down, swallowing hard and hoping no one has noticed. She's not the only one who's lost someone today and it feels like - it feels like part of it could be her fault. She knows it's not, logic and common sense tell her it's not, but there's still that dark whisper in the back of her mind. If only she had pried more into his work, if only she had been able to tell from across the dinner table that all wasn't right, if only she'd paid more attention, if _only_ -

A high pitched whine startles her out of her thoughts and she swallows again, fighting back the tears. For a moment, she thinks it's the ship; it's suffered enough and she's heard it whine and groan while she wandered through engineering. Then she hears it again and she realizes no, it's not the ship it's.... Well, she's not sure but it's sitting on top of her foot.

"Hello," she murmurs, leaning down to scoop the small bundle of fur up in both hands. It's warm and soft and, best of all, it's distracting and she finds herself smiling despite watery eyes. It must have been someone's pet, she thinks. It must have escaped in all of the madness and made its way here. "Poor little fellow," she murmured again, giving it a gentle stroke. For a moment, it makes a sound like a purr but then there's that whine again, and what feels like a shiver against her palms.

"Is it still complaining?" Carol looks up, startled, to find a nurse frowning a bit at the animal in her hands. "Those things are always hungry...."

"Oh - is it yours?"

But the nurse is already walking away, shaking her head and muttering, and Carol has to assume that's a 'no'. She looks to the creature in her hands again and it gives another whine. "Right then," she says, her smile widening, "Let's get you something to eat."


	2. Chapter 2

"If I never have to cross-reference Form 42A with Code 61-33 ever again, it'll be too soon," Uhura says, groaning in exhaustion as she presses fingertips against temples. She's been fighting off a fresh headache and knows it's going to be time to tap out soon. Opening her eyes, she sees Sulu grin at her wearily from across the table.

"I know. Man, I thought _I_ had a lot of filing to do usually. This is...." He gestures at the stack of PADDS and his expression shifts from 'tired' to 'overwhelmed'.

"Yeah," Uhura agrees, sighing. It's their own fault, in a way, she reflects. Mostly her fault. This isn't, technically, their job. Filling out these forms, looking over the repairs, keeping track of the crew.... This is Spock's job, since Kirk is temporarily out of commission.

The problem is _Spock_ is temporarily out of commission too.

No one would ever know it by looking at him. He's still neat, cool, professional. He attends meeting with the admiralty and even gives a clipped statement to the press when Starfleet leans on him. To anyone else, he looks almost the exactly the same as he did when Uhura first laid eyes on him at the academy.

But she isn't anyone else and she knows better. In less than a _year_ , he's watched his mother die, his planet die, and his Captain die.

Spock's half-Vulcan and looks like he's made out of stone.

Uhura can see the cracks. She doesn't want to see him shatter.

So when the forms flood in, because there are always forms, because if there's one constant in the universe, it's bureaucracy, she takes them on first. She squints at fine print and drives herself crazy looking up regulations and rules and matching Form 37F to Form 37C. She brings them to Spock, who still needs to sign off on them because he's technically still in charge, and he looks through them silently while she remembers being entirely in red, waiting beside her favourite instructor as he checks over her work. He rarely made corrections then and he makes none now, signing off on everything he needs to before handing the PADDs back over with a soft "Thank you, Nyota." He doesn't look at her, only at the man laying in the hospital bed in front of them.

They haven't touched in days. They nearly did, once everything was over, once Khan, broken but alive, was dragged back into the Enterprise and then stuffed into his ice box. Once Kirk was off of the ship and settled into his room, she found Spock here too, at his side, as if he had always been there. His fingers had twitched towards her own, but she'd stepped back. She doesn't know how to explain that moment, thinks there's no language in which she can say "I wanted to help you but I couldn't, I _couldn't_ , Spock" and have it be okay. Maybe it's just not okay. She knows he needs comfort, needs stability and strength, and she hadn't felt any of that; she was raw, bleeding out in waves of exhaustion and horror. She needed time to piece herself back together before she could even think of trying to pick him up.

When she reaches for his hand, later and still at Kirk's bedside, she pretends it doesn't hurt when he pulls away.

It's on the third day that Sulu discovers her, in the hole in the wall Starfleet has designated the Enterprise's command central, wishing for a stiff drink and surrounded by PADDs. He's sharp and it doesn't take him long to figure out what she's doing. To her surprise, it doesn't take him long to offer to help either. Once he gets the hang of it, the work becomes more bearable. It helps that it doesn't take her nearly all day and it helps that she has someone to complain with, to laugh with. They talk about Starfleet, about Sulu's plants and Uhura's songs, about how the power surge when the warp core came back on line in apparently wiped out huge chunks of the engineering, medical, and main logs (that's the story they're telling Starfleet anyways; Scotty's already sworn to her on every bottle of scotch he owns that they'll never be able to trace it back to him or find proof of what happened to Kirk).

By the fifth day, she's starting to feel pretty confident that they can handle this.

Naturally, she'll reflect later, that's when it all goes to hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Chekov's the one to contact them, speaking so quickly that even Uhura has trouble following him at first thanks to his heavy accent. She can see Sulu struggling, frowning at video screen. " - and they are all over the ship, the tubes, the wires, Mister Scott is saying he is going to 'toss the wee buggers out of an airlock' - "

"Okay, wait," Sulu says, raising a hand and Chekov pauses again, finally taking a breath. "What, uh, wee buggers?"

"The tribbles!"

"Tribbles?" Sulu repeats, exchanging a glance with Uhura as Chekov frowns at them from the screen.

"Tribbles.... Wait, those balls of fur we got from Mudd's ship?" Uhura asks. She had never seen one before and had barely seen them even then before science officers whisked them away for further study. It had been Gaila, later in the mess hall, who had given her the name and explained that they weren't often seen in this part of the galaxy. Mudd had likely bought or smuggled them in from somewhere, planning to sell them she assumed. At Chekov's nod, she frowns faintly. "I thought those died."

"Oh no," Chekov sighs. Looking over his shoulder for the first time, Uhura notices a few tribbles clinging to the wall. "They are very much alive."

"Great," Sulu says in a tone that implies anything but. "How many are there?"

"I don't know," the ensign says, turning his worried face back towards them. "Please, tell Commander Spock - "

"No," Uhura says firmly. She still doesn't know what's going on in their relationship, but she does know he doesn't need any more shit to deal with. "We can handle it," she says, glancing to Sulu who gives a firm nod. "Uhura out."

Once the screen goes dark, she sighs. _"Tribbles?"_

"Tribbles," he echoes, laughing. "Let's finish these forms up and then see what's going on up there. Though," he says, gaze dropping to his PADD, "I don't see how something like that would be enough of an emergency to bother us or the Commander with. They're fur balls. How bad can it be?"

"Maybe he just misses your handsome face," Uhura teases, head tilting towards the black screen. Sulu doesn't look up at her but his smile widens.

"Maybe."

\---

When they materalize in the transporter room, the first thing Uhura notices is Chekov manning the station. The second thing she notices is that she's already nearly knee-high in tribbles. "Uh," is all she manages to say, hoping she's somehow managed to convey her gratitude that she wasn't beamed directly inside of any of them. She wiggles her toes in her boots to make sure. No squishy tribble guts. So far, so good.

"Lieutenants," Chekov greets, relief thick in his voice. Uhura knows that tone, knows that expression. She recognizes it from years of being a sibling and then a cadet, the unspoken 'I'm so, so glad you're here because now _you're_ going to fix the problem'. She isn't sure yet though, how the hell she's going to fix this. A glance to Sulu tells her he probably isn't sure either.

"Chekov - what?" Sulu gestures around them before starting to slowly shuffle forward, down off the transporter pad.

Uhura follows suit, wincing in sympathy and apology whenever a tribble gives an unhappy squeak at being stepped on.

"I don't know!" It's almost a whine and Uhura wonders how many other people have asked him for answers. "I don't know! First," Chekov continues, leading them out of the transporter room through the tribbles, "There were only a few. Maybe ten, twenty? Then suddenly...." His fingers spread out, expression looking a little lost. "Everywhere."

"There aren't that many in the corridors," Sulu observes as they finally stumble free of the room and Chekov nods, looking proud.

"We push them into the rooms. Mister Scott said it was better, for safety. But some still escape."

Uhura nods, stepping over the smaller piles. At least there were still visible patches of floor. "Where did they come from?"

"I don't know," Chekov sighs, sounding tired this time. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Sulu says, reaching out to give the other man's shoulder a squeeze. "Let's check in with Commander Scott and figure this out."

Engineering, they discover, is largely tribble-free although both Scotty and Chekov swear it hasn't been easy. Scotty's got ensigns assigned specifically to 'tribble duty', also known as finding the little creatures and getting them away from the heart of the ship. "Not that there are many places left to put them, mind," Scotty says, swearing as he spots another hanging off of a wall, "This an' sickbay are the only spots we've managed to keep mostly clean. I've even found the bastards in my quarters. I cannae figure out how they're getting around when all I ever see them do is sit there an' purr!"

"Wait, wait. They're in our quarters too?" Sulu asks, brow furrowing.

"Aye," Scotty sighs, hands on his hips. "Ate the lunch I had brought up from planet-side. An' my snacks. One was trying to figure out how to get into the scotch." 

"Your scotch?" Uhura laughs, unable to help herself. "That's - wait, what exactly are they all eating?"

"Far as I can tell?" Scotty and Chekov exchange a glance. "Everything. The science folks had a fit when they discovered the bastards in the botany lab."

"They - wait," Sulu frowns, holding up his hands. For a moment, Uhura expects him to say something more, but he simply looks between the three of them before he turns and sprints from engineering. She's about to call after him when Chekov groans suddenly from beside her.

"Oh, no...."

Uhura's about to ask when a harried looking ensign calls to Scotty. "Sir! They're in the wires again!"

Sulu's strange behavior is temporarily forgotten in lieu of armfuls of tribbles. It's not carrying them out that's the hard part, she thinks. They're light, soft, and fluffy. It's putting them anywhere else. Every time a door hisses open, more tumble out and it's a race to pack them all in and then get back quickly enough that they don't cascade out into the corridors once more. When they finish, Uhura's dismayed to find a tribble stuck to the front of her uniform. Chekov's got one in his hair. She doesn't think he knows.

"What are we going to do with all of them?" she sighs, more to herself than anything as she pulls the tribble loose from her uniform. In her hands, it starts to purr.

"We could use the torpedo launcher," Scotty grumbles.

"Scotty!" She laughs despite herself, holding the tribble up to her ear to hear its happy little cooing better. "We can't do that. They're alive." They were pains in the ass, but they were still awfully cute.

"Aye, I know, I know," the engineer says with a sigh. "Tempting though."

"They haven't been chewing on any of the wiring, have they?"

"Some. Not many seem to try it an' the ones that do get fried. It hasn't been anything we cannae handle but...." He sighs again, heavier this time. "May not be much longer that's gonnae hold true. What did the Commander say, when you told him? Have we got any orders?"

"Spock doesn't know," she says after a moment of hesitation, lowering the tribble away from her ear. Scotty looks at her for a long moment and she tries to guess what he's thinking, the unspoken language of the set of his shoulders and the width of his eyes.

"Probably for the best," he says and she relaxes a bit; after all, Scotty technically outranks her, even if they both seem to forget it most of the time. "Man's got enough on his plate."

"Yeah," she agrees, grateful.

"You're back! Is - is everything okay?" Chekov asks over Uhura's shoulder and she turns in time to see Sulu walking over, his expression dark.

"They ate my plants."

Uhura knows she's staring. "What? Even the cactus?"

_"Yes."_

She tries to remember if she's ever seen Sulu cry before. She thinks she's about to now.

"We will get rid of them," Chekov says solemnly, wrapping an arm around Sulu's shoulders.

On top of his head, the tribble chirps.

**Author's Note:**

> The first two chapters were originally posted [here](http://strek-id-kink.livejournal.com/1695.html?view=69023#t69023) at the kink meme. Some minor wording has been changed.


End file.
